(Untitled)   I believe in the secret life of things. Moss has a purpose. Trees sing.   More, I know in my bones (smooth, white, hard and supple) that when I sip my coffee the cup tastes my lips.   I admit, I try not…

The evening has a crispness to it After long days of sun and heat, A coolness sneaks into the breeze Adding socks to chilly feet.   The leaves on trees are slowly changing Losing the color of dark rich green, The grass has stopped incessant…

Hide me, hide me Please! Do not find me I’m blind Stop showing me Signs Please! Glide me, glide me To un-design The base Of my Vibrations Inside of me Hide me, hide me Please! Surrendering All of one And then, None and even known…

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Venir, Veni, voluptous verbs villified into the meaning of lust. To come, have come, will come, Travailler, travaillez Travaillez pour vous, mon amour, To work, to have worked. As we do, love, Sur                        …

I am your wildfire. Your burning Santa Anas. With heat that makes men come undone Strong enough to melt the sun. (His surface drips like wax.) Uncontrollable at best. Spontaneous Combustion. Ashes on my breath. Keep your distance, love, or be burned to your death….

Smug Smug thug Smug thug pug Pug thug Thug

You find it funny when you swing hammers with a laugh and a smile. Catching your sibling’s eye; not to be alone in your odious offerings. You find it funny when you see me shrink – handing ‘round your generational trauma like alms for the…

Wake me up and keep me up and hold me up to throw my up. Later on I’ll sleep through all the troubles of the mind. Build me up to blow me up to call me up and tear me up. Into these quiet corners…

I do not dream in pink with familiar notes of jazz clustered in the background I am mired here in blue, green. Do I dream these tones or brown, black-white? What can it mean to dream I have my theories so did Freud so Jung….